


And This is How the Story Goes

by AuthenticAussie



Series: and we can watch the stars on the water [24]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, I swear it has a semi-happy ending no-one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthenticAussie/pseuds/AuthenticAussie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story begins like this;</p>
<p>He is seven and starving at sea, and he can’t even cry because there is no water left in his body with which to create tears. His stomach feels like it has become concave, and as he curls himself up in a ball to stop the hunger pangs, he can count his ribs beneath his fingertips.</p>
<p>He doesn’t watch the sunset; closes his eyes to the burn of yellow and orange that flares on the horizon, and as the stars come out his breathing shallows and finally-</p>
<p>Stops.</p>
<p>The story ends like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And This is How the Story Goes

The story begins like this;

He is seven and starving at sea, and he can’t even cry because there is no water left in his body with which to create tears. His stomach feels like it has become concave, and as he curls himself up in a ball to stop the hunger pangs, he can count his ribs beneath his fingertips.

He doesn’t watch the sunset; closes his eyes to the burn of yellow and orange that flares on the horizon, and as the stars come out his breathing shallows and finally-

Stops.

The story ends like that. 

* * *

The story could’ve begun like this;

A ship sails past them before they know it, before starvation has hollowed out their cheeks and their bellies, and though desperate, the memories of starvation fade away, beaten by the resistance that is a child’s ability to forget.

When people pass by, their stomachs growling but their purses empty, Zeff sends them on their way with an apple or a week’s worth of pay in exchange for their work.

When the Don Krieg pirate turns up, hands open and eyes begging like his pride never has let him before, Sanji is with the rest of them because he has never truly known starvation; has never truly known the desperation to associate with it.

The dish washer boy looks almost disappointed as they take their leave, Zeff having realised he’d be more trouble than he was worth, and the pirate plunks his strawhat low over his eyes, mouth curled down at the edges. It’s almost like he expected something different from Sanji, though he doesn’t know what.

That memory haunts him as he cooks, but it fades over the weeks and years that pass, like an old photograph he wanted to keep but could never remember the reason why.

When this boy turns into the King of the Pirates, when his poster is circulated throughout the whole world, Sanji brushes his hair from his face and remembers how he visited the tiny Baratie-on-the-sea, when that King’s grin dropped and his sails hesitated on the horizon, almost as though they wanted to turn back.

He remembers how the boy stopped in the doorway and turned around, like he was waiting to say words that should’ve come but didn’t, and Sanji wonders what it was that the King of the Pirates wanted to say to the cooks of the Baratie.

He supposed he’d never find out, but it wasn’t as though it mattered. It wasn’t as though much would’ve changed, had he spoken.

The story ends like that.

* * *

The story could’ve gone like this;

He remembers starvation, and the boy who will become King of the Pirates swears to make him his cook, even above Sanji’s vehement protests.

He remembers fighting, fighting for this boy with dreams so big that they will affect the whole world, and he remembers how tiny finding the All Blue seemed in comparison, when his crewmate’s dreams include curing all the diseases that the world has ever known, include drawing a map of the world, include beating the master swordsman, includes sailing the very corners of the map that their navigator will make.

He remembers breathing in water, remembers treading the waves and the salt and looking around for a ship that isn’t there anymore. Remembers trying to keep his captain’s head above the waves, but with every hour that passes he can feel his endurance slowly trickling away, his legs growing numb in the cold water.

And the boy with the dream that will change the world slips from his grasp, and his head goes below the water for the last time. He can see sunlight on the surface, glittering as though it were turning the waves into gems, before he closes his eyes against the sting of the salt and knows with sudden certainty that he is dying.

He spares a moment to know that this death will change nothing, and if only he could’ve been just a bit of stronger, to maybe have held his captain above the waves for just that little longer, than they may’ve been rescued.

But the breath in his lungs leaves him and all he can breathe is water.

And the story ends like this. 

* * *

Or maybe the story might’ve gone like this;

He grabs their hands in desperation, holds them so tightly his hands feel like they will break, but it is not enough and they are ripped away from him, one by one by one until there is-

no

one

left.

And the last thing he sees before the entire world is gone from around him is Luffy’s arm, outstretched to grab him.

But then Luffy is gone and he is the only person left facing Kuma, and his legs feel like they will collapse beneath him, and his chest feels like every part of his heart has been ripped away as his crewmates disappear.

Kuma looms over him, and he can’t stand anymore. His legs fold and drop him into the dirt and he _cries,_ like he’s never done before, because they are _gone_.

And then the world is gone from around him, too, and he’s sobbing in some sort of giant bubble. The world blurs beneath him, and he screams his frustrations to the sky he can only just barely see.

And when he collapses into the comforting arms of sleep, utterly exhausted, the only thing he can hope for is that if he is alive, then maybe they are alive as well. It is that dangerous, deadly hope that grows in his chest like a weed that is the only thing that allows him to sleep without nightmares or a soul-crushing despair.

He’s not sure how much time passes, and he’s not sure what he can do, but moments seem to drag on until he’s sure that he’s been in the bubble for years rather than what could possibly be a few hours. He didn’t know how long he slept for, doesn’t know where he is or where he’s going, and Sanji thought he should be terrified, but honestly all he could feel was empty.

Apathetic to his fate.

He sleeps again.

He wakes as the bubble pops, and he is sent hurtling towards the ground like a bullet. Surprise means he can’t stop, couldn’t even think about catching himself before he smashes into the hard wood of a deck, and he skids, smashing into a cabin and finally stopping.

Sanji can’t help but give a groan, because he’s stiff and now he’s hurt, and his crew is still missing. Even with that little spark of hope in his chest he doesn’t know what he’s meant to hope _for._

The bustle of the ship stops, the crew staring at him because he may’ve just _dropped from the **sky,**_ but he can tell that they’re not marines, and they don’t look particularly blood-thirsty or awful. The people move again as a man he thinks he should remember the name of barks a sharp order that sends them scurrying.

“Oy!” He says, and Sanji clench his arms around his chest to hold together the shattered pieces of his heart, because it still feels like it’s broken. “The hell’d you come from?”

His voice cracks, unused in some time, and he swallows past a dry throat to get the words out; “Came from Sabaody. Where am I?”

He stands, wobbling slightly, because he is basically exhausted, though he hasn’t done anything while stuck in the bubble.

“Who’re you, yoi?” The man asks, instead of answering, but Sanji’s eyes catch on the flag at the top of the mast, and he can feel himself relax slightly.

“I’m Sanji, of the Strawhat pirates. Ace is my captain’s brother.”

The man tenses even more as Sanji mentions Ace’s name, if anything, and the cook feels trepidation curl like a snake in his stomach, coiled and heavy.

“Marco. First division commander of the Whitebeards.” Marco rolls his jaw, just slightly, as though he’s moving words around in his mouth, and before anxiousness can grow any further in Sanji’s body, he says, “Ace’s been captured and is going to be executed by the Marines. We’re going to rescue him.”

And all Sanji can think is his captain is missing, his family is gone, and now his captain’s brother is-

The world feels colder, though he stops the thought before it can finish forming, and he tries to draw steel through his body to hold himself upright and unbreakable, though he feels anything but.

“Need an extra pair of hands?”

Marco nods, simply, and the moments after that seem to blur into one another, through a haze of exhaustion and the slowly-growing dread as they try to race against the clock that shows how much time Ace has left.

And then he is fighting for his life and the lives of the people he has grown close to, he is fighting to get to Ace-

And then Luffy is _there_ and relief washes over him as cold as a bucket of ice.

His captain is there and he will make everything alright, because he _always does that,_ in that world-bending, reality-changing way that he has. Because Luffy has challenged the whole world and he’s always taken two steps forwards to the steps his enemies have tried to push him back, and he’s _Luffy._

His captain is there, and he knows with a complete and utter, unwavering faith that now Luffy has arrived there is nothing the government will be able to do to stop them from taking Ace back to where he belongs; alongside the Whitebeard pirates and _free._

And so he doesn’t think, when he sees that Luffy has dropped, tired and panting, for just a moment’s rest. He knows it’ll only be a moment, because this fight is almost won for them, and so he moves to protect his captain-

For a just a moment.

And in that moment, Akainu has moved and everything is changing way too fast because Luffy is where he shouldn’t be and Ace is there but _Ace shouldn’t be there_ and then there’s-

He’s not sure why Luffy’s watching him like that.

His eyes seem too wide; horrified.

His knees hit concrete, liquid soaking through to his legs, and he thinks he should care because blood is a _pain_ to get out of fabrics but for some reason-

He just can’t seem to summon the concern through the haze of apathy that descended on his mind.

Sanji’s body seems almost too hot, like he’s using Diable Jiambe, but he’s not fighting right now, he’s protecting his captain so maybe he is using it but-

If he was, why would Luffy be staring at him like his entire world was crumbling? It seemed strange-

What seemed-

Lots of things seemed strange.

Like how he could no longer hear the sounds of battle as it went on all around them, and nor could he tell where Ace was.

He’d shoved him out of the way-

_Why?_

_Well because-_

_Because-_

_Because otherwise he’d have gotten hurt. Yeah, that was right. Because he’d have gotten hurt, and if he’d gotten hurt, Luffy would’ve cried and-_

Sanji couldn’t bear the thought of seeing that hopelessly desperate expression on Luffy’s features again. He was strong enough to deal with any enemy Luffy wanted him to defeat, but to see that expression may’ve bought him to his knees.

He would’ve laughed, the thought of being defeated by an _expression_ hilarious to him for some reason, but the notion seemed wrong somehow, so he didn’t.

Luffy’s strangled voice interrupted his round-a-bout thoughts, and he forces himself to pay attention as his captain chokes, and says one strangled word. “Sanji-?”

The words are harder to say than they should be, like he’s trailing them through molasses or honey, but he says them anyway, because he knows he needs to comfort his friend somehow. “Aye, captain?”

And he can feel how Luffy’s shoulders hitch, how his body starts to shake, tremors passing from Luffy to Sanji and _that wasn’t what he wanted-_

That wasn’t what he wanted at all. He wanted Luffy to share his steadfast certainty, because it was obvious that Luffy would make everything better because-

Wasn’t that what he always did?

No matter the odds against them, the injuries they sustained, the battles they fought when every single one of them seemed to hang on by the tiniest sliver of the most fragile rope-

They always pulled through, at the end, didn’t they?

“You’re not- You can’t be-”

“Cap’tn?” He questions, half a slur, and this time he can barely, barely get it out, because his eye lids just seem so heavy and his mouth can’t seem to form letters anymore. “’M just- s’eep now. S’kay? Jusss nap li- like- shhit bastard- be- good juss- a minute-”

“ _No!_ Sanji, Sanji, no-”

But this is a time when he can’t follow his captain’s orders, and he knows that if he can just have a short rest- like stupid Zoro, the shitty swordsman, if he can just take a short rest he’ll be fine.

He could just take a quick rest, and he’ll be ready to fight again.

He would, and then they’d all get out of there, and everything would be

just

And that is how the story ends. 

* * *

But the story goes like this;

At seven, he is lost at sea and slowly starves. His skin curves around his bones, and any baby fat he has gets eaten away as his entire body tries to keep him _alive._

He sleeps through the night, wakes before the stars have set, and sees them flicker away as the light of day slowly sends tendrils across the skyline. When the white wings of a sail crests the horizon, he thinks he’s still dreaming, but when they come closer he finally sobs, and knows that they are real.

His voice doesn’t work, not anymore, but he still rouses Zeff from slumber and they attract the attention of the ship, and they are _saved_.

They are alive.

And when the time comes he remembers starvation; he can remember how hunger made his stomach dip inwards like an empty bowl, and so he feeds the man that is dying on their deck.

The future King of the Pirates sees him do it, and with the tenacity that only he seems to own, manages to drag Sanji along for the adventure of a lifetime. Drags him along to find the answer to his silent, hopeful dream; ( _Will) I (will!) find the All Blue (?)_

And he fights side by side with men who will change the world, women who will shape it till it bends to their own design, and knows that there is not a single place he would rather be than here.

He takes a breath of ocean water and spray as the sun rises above the horizon on another day when he is alive, and thinks to himself, _I wonder what I’ll make for breakfast?_

And the story starts here.


End file.
